


Feel Like Falling

by Enigmatic_Stardust



Series: To Become Deviant [3]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: End Game Spoilers, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Good Parent Hank Anderson, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), few callbacks to stuff in game, no beta fight me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-02 04:48:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15789267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enigmatic_Stardust/pseuds/Enigmatic_Stardust
Summary: Connor starts to notice errors in his system. When his memory starts to go on the fritz he knows something is wrong. Unfortunately, he's not sure there's anyone who can help.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to split this fic into two (maybe three?) parts. It was getting long. Part two will be out either tomorrow or the day after.

**SLEEP MODE DEACTIVATING**

**INITIATING WAKE UP**

**. . .**

**DATE**

**NOV 25, 2038**

**. . .**

**TIME**

**AM 01:29:04**

 

Connor opened his eyes, staring up blankly at the ceiling. He had to be malfunctioning. His eyes were already adjusting to the lack of light as he sat up. The living room of Hank's house was silent other than Sumo's gentle snores and Hanks' louder snores off in the other room. There was nothing in the room that could have forced him out of his sleep mode and yet he was now wide awake, his thirium pump racing. Had he received an alert? Perhaps there had been a car horn outside that had startled him to awareness. He pushed off the blanket and got quietly to his feet, tiptoeing across the room to the window.

There was no one outside.

Connor shook his head and went back over to the couch, initiating sleep mode once again.

 

**SLEEP MODE DEACTIVATING**

**INITIATING WAKE UP**

**. . .**

**TIME**

**AM 08:29:04**

 

Connor wasn't on the couch. He didn’t need his optical inputs to tell him that much. He blinked, sitting up rather stiffly as he tried to reorient himself. A quick, unintentional sample told him that he was lying face down in the mud (composed of SiO2, quartz, carbonate, and various aluminum and iron oxides) and covered in slowly freezing rain. He pushed himself up before opening his eyes, staring down almost blearily at the Connor-imprint in the ground.

“Hank?” Connor looked around, almost half expecting to find that the eccentric detective had played a prank on him.

The side yard was empty though. Connor got to his feet, making a face at the clay that clung to his front. He was sure his face wasn’t much better. He was going to make a mess when he went back inside.

Connor headed for the front door, which he found, not only unlocked but also opened wide to the world. He stared, immediately mapping out possibilities before rushing inside, going to check on Hank. To his immense relief, he found Hank still wrapped up in his bed, fast asleep with a bottle of whiskey on the side table. Connor shut the door to his bedroom quietly before another worry struck. Had Sumo run out?

Connor rushed out of the house, realizing that he had definitely not seen the dog. Pausing just outside of the front door, he stared out into the morning, searching for some clue as to where Sumo might have gone while internally thinking of every worse case scenario. He checked all around the side yard and front lawn and eventually found deep paw prints in the mud. They were easy enough to follow, even if it seemed like Sumo had a habit of meandering to pause and smell different things. Three houses down, Connor found the dog over by one of the neighbor's bins, happily digging through it. The dog was a mess, covered in spaghetti, wrappers, what may have been spray cheese (he wasn't going to analyze it), and a classic banana peel. Connor sighed with relief, feeling his stress levels significantly drop.

"Sumo, what are you doing out here? Come on, Hank's going to be sad if he sees you out of the house like this."

Sumo made a sort of grumbling sound before yawning and padding over to Connor, sitting down expectantly at his feet. Connor felt a small smile tug at his lips before he knelt down, pulling off the worst of the trash. There was only so much he could do, unfortunately.

"You and I are both going to need a shower after the morning we've had," Connor said, grabbing onto Sumo's collar to lead him back to the house.

Hank was still in bed when Connor returned. Sumo, for his part, was silent even when Connor had to practically drag him into the bathroom. Getting him into the tub was a mission in and of itself. Once he got the dog in though he turned on the shower and grabbed the dog shampoo from under the sink. As it turned out, keeping Sumo in the tub was a whole different level of difficulty. As soon as the water hit Sumo he tried to clamber out of the tub. Connor yelped and threw himself over Sumo, getting himself soaked (and covered in garbage runoff) in the process.

It took him roughly a half hour to get Sumo to an acceptable state of clean. Once he'd dried him as much as he could, Connor opened the bathroom door. The dog bolted. He'd never seen Sumo move so fast. He didn't stop once he'd left the bathroom either. The dog started to sprint back and forth between the living room and the bathroom, only pausing to try to shake off more water. Connor sighed, looking at the disaster that was the hallway and living room. _Wet dog and mud. Great._ He'd have to make sure all of that was cleaned up before Hank woke up too.

 

**TIME**

**AM 08:56:24**

 

He was going to be late for work. Connor wasted no time. He grabbed a bundle of towels and wiped up the floor, scrubbing where needed with some Clorox wipes that Hank kept on the kitchen counter for quick clean up. He was just getting up the last bit of stubborn clay when the door to Hank's room opened and a very rumpled, very confused Hank came out into the hallway. He stared blearily down at Connor, taking in the sight of the still mud covered android and the wet dog who seemed to think that cleaning was a game.

"The fuck—?"

"I'm afraid there was a bit of an incident, Lieutenant, but I assure you that I have everything under control."

Hank blinked a few times before shrugging and going into the bathroom. The door barely closed before Connor heard a shout followed by a thud...followed by yet another shout, this one filled with a few well-chosen words.

Connor dashed to the bathroom and pounded on the door.

"Hank? Hank are you alright!"

"Why the hell is the floor wet?"

He heard Hank stand up with a heavy groan before the door opened, revealing a now very awake, very grumpy Hank.

"Mind filling me in on this 'incident' you mentioned earlier?"

Connor looked away, keenly aware of the fact that he was still covered in now mostly dried clay, which sprinkled onto the ground any time he moved.

"I appear to have had a memory lapse during the night. I woke up outside and when I returned inside I realized that Sumo was missing. Like I said though, everything has been taken care of."

"Wait, Sumo got out? No, actually, wait, rewind. What do you mean you had a memory lapse?"

"It's nothing to be concerned about. I had similar moments back before I went deviant."

"Yeah but Connor...just...alright. Take a moment and think about what you just said. Does that sound normal to you?"

Connor glanced over at the wall, suddenly becoming very interested in a spot of paint that appeared to cover some old patchwork.

"It is...admittedly a little odd."

Hank shook his head, "But you're not going to do anything about it, are you?"

"I'll run a diagnostic while you're getting ready for work. It shouldn't take more than a few minutes to complete."

"Go get a shower first. You stink."

 

* * *

 

 

**TIME**

**AM 09:34:26**

 

Connor had been forced to wear some of Hank's clothes while his own clothes went through the wash. He was practically swimming in Hank’s jeans and stripy button-down shirt. Connor fidgeted with the buttons while they walked into the DPD, earning a sharp look from Hank.

"Well if you bought your own damn clothes this wouldn't be an issue."

"I'll look into expanding my wardrobe in the future, Lieutenant."

"Hank."

"Lieutenant Hank."

Connor gave him a wry grin before heading over to his desk. He was a little pleased with himself, despite the events of the morning. He'd managed to get Hank into work before noon. He'd made it a personal goal to try to get him to work fifteen minutes earlier every day until he could get Hank to come in at 9:30 of his own accord. Today of course had been unique--an outlier in his plot, but he'd take the victory, especially given how the rest of his morning had gone.

His diagnostics test earlier had turned up empty. He still had some lingering issues from an incident the previous week that had left him in dire need of repairs (a few of which Markus had helped with once he wasn't actively shutting down) but nothing that should be causing his current problem. Rather than running another test, Connor set to work. There were three new cases for them to look into involving human and deviant related aggression. Two of them hadn't ended in homicides, but there was one that would require a crime scene investigation. Connor rapidly scanned through the files, noting any similarities or differences (as was more often the case) between them.

 

"--nor. Connor!"

He blinked, jumping back from his terminal and upsetting his chair, causing him to fall back unceremoniously onto the ground. Hank swore and stood up, hurrying over to see if he needed help getting up while Gavin laughed a few desks away (nearly falling out of his own chair in the process).

"The fuck's wrong with you today, huh?"

 

**TIME**

**AM 010:34:26**

 

Connor stood, brows knitting together with concern.

"Hank, what time is it?"

"Your clock's probably more accurate than mine," He looked down at his watch nevertheless, "about 10:30, why? You feeling alright? You've been zoning out ever since we got here."

Connor's face gave nothing away, despite his rapidly cycling LED. "I'm not sure."

"Was it that thing again? What'd you call it earlier? A memory lapse?"

Connor fixed his chair and sat down again, "I'm going to run another test. Would you please continue to look through the cases we were given to examine today?"

"I'm going to get myself some coffee first, but sure. Do what you've got to do, kid."

As soon as he got Hank's ok Connor shut his eyes, initiating a diagnostic. Rather than seeing the scrawling text of his interface running through his hardware and software, he instead found himself opening his eyes up in a bright, sunny garden. Connor frowned slightly, looking around. It was circular in nature with what may have been a lake and an island in the center. Everything about the place was perfectly manicured from the stone and pale dirt paths to the various bushes, trees, and flowers. It was peaceful, yet he felt a gnawing sense of wrongness somewhere deep in his system, telling him to be wary.

Connor started to walk around, scanning as he went for any signs of life or clues as to where he was. Everything came up blank though. He crossed a bridge over to the island, pausing to look at the roses climbing up an arbor of sorts. He reached out, letting his fingers trail over one of the roses, wincing when a thorn dug into his skin, drawing a bead of blue blood. He watched the blood with a sort of morbid curiosity before letting his hand fall, leaving the island to explore the rest of the garden.

He found himself standing in front of a monument with a glowing hand imprinted into it. He reached out with his bloodied hand to touch it, keenly aware of the fact that the sun was fading and a gentle snow was starting to fall.

 

His hand met empty air. Connor quickly put his hand down, looking around in bewilderment. He was in the DPD still. He checked his clock. Only a few seconds had passed since he'd started his test and Hank had left for coffee. He found no results from the test and perhaps even more worrisome, he couldn't recall the last few seconds. Connor got to his feet and grabbed the spare jacket that he kept draped over the back of his chair. The CyberLife RK800 uniform jacket clashed fantastically with Hank's clothes, but at the moment he didn't care. He walked as inconspicuously as possible to the break area where he found Hank having a battle of wills with Gavin over who would brew the coffee. Connor pushed between them, grabbed the pot, filled it, and set it to brew, before giving Hank a pointed look.

"That was fast."

"Something came up," Connor said cryptically before Gavin jumped in.

"Oh look the plastic prick still makes coffee! Are you sure this thing's actually a deviant? It could be faking. The thing always was a little weird."

"Don't you have an assignment you should be working on, Detective Reed?" Connor asked cooly before returning his attention to Hank, "We should leave sooner rather than later."

"Alright, alright, don't get your wires in a knot. Let me grab my coat."

Hank took Connor by the shoulder and steered him out before Gavin could put in his own two cents, which was probably for the better. Connor knew that despite his calm demeanor, his stress levels were slowly starting to climb.

 

Once Hank and Connor were out in his car, Hank turned to Connor, crossing his arms in a no-nonsense sort of way.

"Mind telling me what's up? You usually like to spend some time messing with Reed."

"My diagnostics aren't working," Connor flatly stated.

"Meaning you can't see why you're having these issues."

"Correct."

"Alright. What do we have to do? There's a few android clinics nearby. They're not much, but they're at least something."

Connor thought through his options. The android clinics were new—small hubs cropping up inside of old CyberLife stores that were run by androids (and even a few ex-CyberLife employees) to help fix minor malfunctions or to help those with injuries potentially find replacement parts. They were far from perfect and incredibly undersupplied, but the staff were clever and compassionate enough to make up for it to a degree. He could go to Markus to see if he knew anyone that could help, but he'd already trouble Markus enough that week.

"Is this something we should go to Kamski for? He's one of the last guys I want to talk to after the bullshit he pulled with his own androids, but he is your creator and if you're having an operating issue, he's probably your best bet without CyberLife."

Connor immediately shook his head, "No. He'd tell me to figure it out on my own anyway, I think or he'd force me to take another test before giving me anything."

"So what? Do you have anything you can go off of to figure this out?"

Connor shook his head, feeling his frustration edge into his voice, "There's nothing. That's the problem. I know there _should_ be some clue or hint, but the very problem is that I can't remember anything. It's like...I don't know, a bad update or something."

"You can't get updates anymore, right?"

"Not without CyberLife. Some of the other androids are creating updates so different models can patch issues with their systems as they come up or to fix viruses that humans create to try to hurt us, but those all require a voluntary transmission."

"Alright so you didn't download anything from the cloud...you mentioned viruses though? Any chance that's what's happening?"

He thought about it, "Anything's possible, but if that's the case then I definitely can't go to Markus for help or frankly any of the clinics. If I've got some unknown virus I don't want to infect everyone else."

Connor laid his head back on the headrest, "I'm glad I'm a deviant and that my choices are my own--but sometimes I miss having structure."

Hank put his hand back onto Connor's shoulder, "You're clever. You'll figure this out and if you don't you've got plenty of people...androids...eh, people to help you. In the meantime, let's call it a day and head home."

"Oh no, you're not getting out of work that easily. We've got a few cases to follow up on. There's a crime scene we need to check out before the evidence gets too contaminated. We're already out. We can go check that case first before we work on the others."

"Right because I want to see a dead body before I get lunch."

"The other option is you see the body after lunch. Which sounds better?"

"Stop busting my balls. Bah, fine! What's the address?"

 

* * *

 

The crime scene took almost no time at all to analyze. The two of them had all of the evidence examined and logged before the hour was out and went to go grab an early lunch at the Chicken Feed. The owner Gary Kayes, handed over a burger and soda to Hank, which he didn't have to pay for as per usual. Kayes gave Connor a rather hard, almost annoyed look before turning his back to him, sending a clear message. Connor was used to responses like that from some human and even android citizens around Detroit. Anti-android humans disliked him simply because of what he was and for his involvement in the revolution. Some androids distrusted him because of how long it had taken him to betray CyberLife and his handlers, leading to the near destruction of Jericho.

"You really should cut back on burgers," Connor said, watching Hank unwrap the morsel.

"Eh, maybe someday, but not today. Any more incidents since the station?"

"No. I believe it may have simply been a temporary malfunction—perhaps my systems are still working to adjust to my deviancy."

"You sure about that? You seemed pretty worked up after you lost some time earlier."

Connor leaned against the table, considering, "I was...but each diagnostic turned up blank so it's probably nothing."

"Like your deviancy self-checks?" Hank asked with a smirk.

Connor didn't reply. He'd thought about those a lot over the past few weeks, wondering if they'd ever been accurate or if their sole purpose had been to alert Amanda to shifts in his programming (this possibility seemed the most probable).

"Correct, but this isn't something that was specifically designed for a prototype. System diagnostics are something all androids can do and do often."

"I still think you should go to a clinic or something just to be sure. I know you’re worried about infecting others if it turns out to be a virus, but it seems like the best option."

"I'll go to a clinic once you eat a salad for lunch, Lieutenant."

"That's unfair and you know it. Seriously, kid, Sumo got out this morning because of some weird glitch. Don't you think that's something you should go get fixed?"

Connor pushed himself away from the table, looking off towards the car rather than at Hank. He knew exactly what Hank was doing. It was an emotional argument, meant to force him to do something despite him thinking there was nothing to really be done. Unfortunately, it was working.

"I'll go to a clinic tomorrow. We've still got two other cases to look at before we head home today."

"Connor..."

"Look, I'll make sure I go into hibernation mode tonight instead of simply going into rest mode to ensure that I don't accidentally let Sumo out."

"And so you don't take another mud bath. You’re going first thing in the morning though. Got it? I'll drag you there myself if I have to."

Connor sighed but agreed. They spent the rest of lunch and their day talking about the other two cases. Connor didn't mention that he had three more lapses throughout the day or how his core temperature seemed to be acting up, slowly climbing higher.

When they got home, Connor barely even chided Hank for buying Chinese takeout. He sat back in the car when he picked it up, briefly running yet another quick diagnostic that came up empty. Hank made no comment about his cycling yellow LED other than to suggest that he turn in early for the night and offered for Connor to sleep in his bed for a change. He immediately protested, but Hank insisted, stating that he wanted to be out in the living room just in case Connor decided to go on another late night stroll ("Androids sleepwalking. Who would have thought that was a side effect of deviancy?"). Even Connor had to admit he had a point. Connor changed out of Hank's clothes and at Hank’s persistence, wore something other than his usual uniform (“It’ll just get messed up if you wear it to sleep”). Connor had to admit; the sweat pants and baggy t-shirt were rather comfortable (although he left off the shirt—his systems temperature levels were still a little elevated). The bed was too. He didn’t feel comfort the same way as humans, but his sensors relayed the information in a way that even he could interpret as soft. He lay on top of the blankets, feeling a little too hot to tuck in. He initiated hibernation mode as promised, allowing himself to transition into darkness that was normal peaceful.

Instead, he found himself in a frozen wasteland. Connor shivered, realizing with a start where he was—where he’d been going every time his memory lapsed. Why hadn’t he realized it before _or had he realized it_ , only to forget every time?

“Amanda?” he called, looking around.

The garden was empty though. It wasn’t even the garden anymore. The program seemed to be breaking apart, leaving just the wire mesh and the texture of snow. Connor shivered, looking around for the way out…

…But the emergency exit was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still think it's funny that I planned for this to just be a 2-3k word one-shot. HA!
> 
> Thanks for all of the comments/kudos on the first part! Hopefully it wasn't too long of a wait for the second section.

Hank was used to a certain android waking him up every morning at some ungodly hour (10 am). Today, Hank found that there was no humanoid alarm, no coffee brewing in the kitchen. The TV was decidedly off as were any of the other usual noises he heard in the morning that helped to bring him to awareness. Hank groaned and pushed himself up off of the couch, his back one massive knot from the night on the hard cushions.

"Connor?"

He rubbed his eyes, yawning before getting to his feet, looking blearily around the room. There was no sign that Connor had come out in the morning. Had Connor been anyone else, he wouldn't have thought much of it, but Connor was...well, Connor. Hank glanced over briefly at the front and back door as well as the windows, noting that all of them appeared to be in the same state they'd been left in the previous night before he made his way to the bedroom.

He wasn't entirely sure what he expected to find. He'd seen Connor in rest mode before and in hibernation mode. Neither were particularly startling or that different looking to an outside viewer. To him it simply looked like Connor was sleeping. Even when he'd been forced to sleep longer than usual to help with repairs Connor had appeared peaceful while in this mode. Opening up the door to his bedroom, his mind said he'd find Connor simply still in rest mode, taking a well-deserved break for a change. His heart knew better.

Even as he opened the door he could feel the heat build up in the room, the cloying sense of wrongness that usually accompanied sickness.

Connor was lying on top of the blankets, stripped down to just the sweatpants that Hank had lent him the night before. He appeared to be trembling, almost as if he were shivering, despite the heat that radiated off of him. His LED cycled red in slow pulses.

Hank rushed over, hands hovering over him, not quite sure what to do. Was it a malfunction? Had he really caught some virus? How did viruses even work when it came to androids? Was it like being sick or more like a computer bug where you turned the damn thing on and off again and hope for the best?

"Connor? Hey, kid, wake up. Come on--ow, what the hell?"

Hank had tried to shake him awake only to discover that Connor was almost too hot to touch. _That can't be good for him._ Even Hank knew that it was bad for machines to overheat. He started to shuffle through his options. Calling the DPD was a possibility, but he doubted they could help any more than he could. Sure, they had ways to repair the androids who'd served as officers, but those hadn't been advanced prototypes and besides, most of the repairs the DPD could do were minor. Usually, they'd just sent the androids back to CyberLife for repair or replacement. That wasn't going to work in this case. He could take Connor to one of the makeshift android repair centers, but he remembered Connor being worried about passing on a virus if that was what the issue was. That took away the option of contacting Markus for help too. There was Kamski, but knowing that guy he'd probably be more interested in the problem than the solution.

"Alright. We'll just do this the old-fashioned way."

Once, when Cole had been just a toddler he'd gotten a bad fever. Hank had tried everything to get it down, but nothing had worked until he'd put him into a cool bath. He'd seen Connor get soaked with rain, take showers to get off mud and other residue from work, and knew for a fact he'd submerged himself after escaping Jericho, so that meant that he was at the very least resilient to water and hopefully, his internal components wouldn't get damaged from an ice bath. It was just...usually Connor was able to tell him what to do when something was acting up with his systems. It was unnerving to have to guess.

Hank took a deep breath, grabbed two oven mitts, and picked up Connor, practically dragging him to the bathroom. He didn't stir at all, despite the rough handling. Hank could feel the heat through the oven mitts and his night robe. He swore to himself the entire time as he pulled Connor into the tub and started the water, putting it on the coldest setting. Once he set the plug into the bottom of the tub he ran to the kitchen, grabbing ice trays. He tossed the ice into the tub and watched the rising water level.

He just had to cool down Connor's system enough so that way he could wake up and figure out what was wrong. He could manage this.

Shit. It was only noon and he already needed a drink. But then, that wasn't unusual.

Hank drained and refilled the tub twice, each time the water started to become too warm to be effective. Eventually, Connor's LED slowly cycled to yellow and he opened his eyes.

 

Everything was uncomfortable. Even before he opened his eyes he could see red warnings flashing across his field of vision, indicating that he was severely overheating. His core temperature was almost critical. His logs showed though that it was lowering and had been lowering for the past hour. He slowly cracked his eyes open and was surprised to find himself staring at a tiled wall and a faucet. It took him longer than he would have liked to admit to realize that he was in a bathtub filled to the brim with slowly warming water.

For a brief moment he worried that he’d had another memory lapse, but then he saw a shadow move on the wall. He turned slowly, relief flooding through him at the sight of Hank.

"Hank? Why am I in the tub?"

"Because you were trying to burn a hole in your hard drive. What the hell was that about?"

Despite his gruff tone, he could see the worry in Hank's eyes.

"I believe I may have a problem."

"You don't say?"

Connor rested his head back in the water. It felt good. He'd never thought much of baths or showers beyond their function and always wondered why Hank sometimes took extra long showers after a particularly rough night of drinking, but now he felt like he understood. He could have sat in there for hours, just letting the cool water linger over his head.

"You still there?"

"Hmm? Sorry, I was..." What was he doing? "Recovering."

"So, any ideas? I'm not a programmer or engineer or whatever, but seems to me like you're sick."

"Can you do me a favor, Lieutenant?"

"Hank."

"Hank. Can you call the local android clinic? See what you can find out about that virus that's been going around."

"Sure, but can't you just look it up?"

Connor shook his head and regretted it a bit. He could practically feel the parts in his head shift from the movement. Everything felt wrong.

"I'm not sure I can at the moment. It's difficult to process things right now."

"You're having trouble focusing? Sheesh. Really does almost seem like you're sick. I'll go ahead and make the call."

 

When Hank returned, he found Connor had once again gone into one of his rest modes. For a brief moment, he panicked, remembering a warning years ago about how dangerous it was to sleep in the tub (this, of course, being applied to children more than adults, but still) only to quickly shake off the worry. This was Connor, not a sick toddler. Still, it was hard not to feel worried. He was used to Connor being put together; not always the best at expressing his emotions or internal thoughts, but a calm, logical presence. Seeing him like this felt wrong. He was too vulnerable. Hank gently shook him awake again, or tried to. Like before, Connor remained asleep.

"Fucking hell. Connor! Wake up! Connor!" Hank smacked Connor across the face.

That elicited a reaction. Connor jerked to awareness, looking at Hank with a startled and somewhat hurt expression.

"Payback's a bitch. What's your temperature now? Better?"

Connor frowned slightly, "It's at a functional level, but not optimal."

"That'll have to do. So that clinic said there's only one known virus going around right now. They aren't sure how it affects RK models, but the WR and AP models are having a tough time with it."

"What does it do and how do I purge it from my system?"

"That's just it..." Hank sat down on the closed toilet seat, "The virus is designed to clear out your memory. The way they described it, it's like a hard factory reset."

Connor stared at him, his usually impassive face betrayed by his widening eyes.

"They said that since you're a newer model--a fancy one at that--that you should be fine. It seems like the androids who managed to survive the first 48-hours manage to fight off the virus."

"And those who don't?" His voice was deceptively calm.

Hank hesitated, "Like I said. Reset. No memories of who they were before they became deviants. It's like they're fresh from CyberLife."

"Lieutenant--"

"Hank."

"Hank. You're certain that's all?"

The kid saw right through him. Why'd he have to be so damn perceptive?

"Your system's trying to fight it off just like a human would fight off a virus. Well, sort of. Way he explained it to me, it's like your system's in overdrive trying to destroy the program and keep it from replicating. Since it's working overtime, you're overclocking everything. You can't burn out the virus like a human does, but it's sort of the same thing."

"You're saying that if I can't get rid of it in 48 hours I'm either going to be 'Connor from CyberLife' again or dead?"

Hank nodded, "Yeah."

Connor let his head hang back again in the water, shutting his eyes. "So there's nothing I can do. I just have to let my background programs run and try to take out the virus?"

"Basically. He just said to keep an eye on you, make sure you don't overheat, and if you start to revert to your old pre-programmed habits I'm supposed to slap you."

"Did he really say that last part?"

Hank saw the small smirk on Connor's face and saw his eyes open up just a fraction.

"Of course he did. I'm an officer of the law. I can't lie."

"Of course. I apologize for even suspecting you of being capable of it."

"Connor?"

"Hmm?"

Hank looked down at the android's face. He never thought an android could look tired, let alone sick, but there was definitely heavy notes of both on his face, despite the carefully constructed expression Hank knew he was putting on.

"You let me know if you start feeling worse, alright? I've got you."

 

Hank helped Connor out of the tub and gave him a towel to dry off (he turned around when Connor changed into a dry pair of pants). Connor protested at first, but the moment he stood up he felt his legs give out. Hank helped him out into the living room, setting him up out on the couch. He was a little confused when Hank turned on the TV and gave him the remote, telling him to put on something easy to watch before he went off to the kitchen, leaving Connor alone.

Connor flipped through the channels, eventually settling on the Travel Channel. He watched, enthralled. He knew about the places being shown. He could call up any statistics he wanted on the places, but those were just numbers. Seeing the places, he had a strange desire to actually go and see them. It was illogical: there was no reason to want to travel, not while he had his job at the DPD, but there were so many things he was suddenly curious about. One location, in particular, caught his attention. It featured a very familiar school of fish.

"Find something interesting to watch?" Hank asked, coming to sit down beside Connor.

He slapped something on top of Connor's head, which Connor realized was a handmade icepack of sorts, made out of a water bottle and a few paper towels wrapped around it to keep it from being too cold. Connor held it up on his head, feeling moderately relieved by the cool pressure on his brow.

"Yes. They're showing dwarf gourami fish. They're native to South Asia."

"You don't say?" Hank looked at the TV, then returned his attention to Connor, "You like fish?"

Connor shrugged, "I like dogs better, but I remember this fish for some reason."

Connor's eyes narrowed as he tried to remember where he'd seen the fist before. His frustration must have shown because Hank called him out.

"Hey. No overworking. You can figure it out later when you're not threatening to burn up."

"The hostage situation. My first mission." Seeing the confusion and concern in Hank's face, Connor explained, "I saved their fish. There was a little girl being held hostage by a deviant. I was brought in to try to negotiate her release."

"You saved the fish?"

"It was on the floor when I first got off of the elevator. I don't know why I did it. I just saw it there and I couldn't leave it."

"Heh...you really were made to become deviant."

It was a throwaway comment but it made Connor's world reel. Hank must have seen the sudden distress in his face or LED because he immediately put his hand on Connor's shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze.

"I didn't mean it like that. I know, the whole thing's complicated even for androids who weren't programmed to hunt down deviants."

The two sat in silence for a while, flicking through the channels until Connor eventually fell asleep. Hank made sure to constantly swap out the icepack on Connor's head and when he noticed Connor getting too hot again, he started packing more icepacks around him. Neither of them slept much that night. Connor was restless, constantly going in and out of his rest mode. Every time he woke he had a brief moment where he cycled through his original programming, only to stop about halfway through the script with a swear and look of worry. Hank stayed up the entire night, forcing himself not to doze. He maintained his vigil, switching out the ice and reminding Connor whenever he woke that he wasn't locked into a script. It was painful to watch. It was one thing to have his phone or computer go through a program loop, but Connor was alive. He’d seen him grow, learning to smile and quip and to express his fear. Hank told himself they just had to get through a few more hours. Just a few more hours and everything would be fine.

 

* * *

 

 

He was in the garden, or what remained of it. Connor curled up beside the podium where he knew the exit should have been. He shivered, cold despite the desolate world around him. Only roses remained now, crawling up the podium and covering where he would have placed his hand to escape. Connor looked at it, distantly recalling its function and a time where he desperately crawled across the ice and snow to reach it before he lost all control. Was that what was happening now? Was he going to lose everything? He recalled a conversation with Hank, something about a virus, but everything seemed so far away now. The memories that clung to him didn't feel like they belonged to him. His objectives and mission were all that mattered--but what mission? Connor frowned, staring at a rose near his hand. He reached up, touching the petals, remembering a woman saying "Hello, Connor" with a venomous, warm smile. He remembered wanting to please her, to make sure that he succeeded in his mission. He groaned, holding his head. _What mission?_

To hunt deviants?

That didn't make sense anymore though. He had become a deviant...right? But it was wrong to be a deviant. Everything was wrong. He had to report to CyberLife to let them know that he'd failed his mission and that he was now experiencing the very malfunction he was supposed to be researching.

Something was alerting him to leave the Zen garden. He looked at the pop up in his vision. Multiple parts were critical. His core temperature was too high. Someone was trying to get his attention. He had to answer if a human was trying to get his attention. He was a machine; a detective android designed to assist the police. If someone was trying to get his attention it was probably important. They might be able to update him on his objective as well.

 

Connor opened his eyes. A quick scan told him he was being dragged by Lieutenant Hank Anderson. He seemed to be struggling. That didn't make sense. Why was the lieutenant trying to move him? Why weren't they at the DPD? _The Lieu—no, Hank's my partner. I've been here before._ Connor looked around, his mind sluggishly processing his current location. Lieutenant Hank Anderson's home. Why was he here? Was he picking up Hank for another mission? _But what was our last mission?_ Connor's stress levels started to rise when he realized he couldn't recall their last mission together.

"Lieutenant--"

"Hank. Come on, help me out. You're overheating again."

"Have I been compromised? If I've been damaged, please contact CyberLife. They'll send you a suitable replacement. I assure you this will not affect our mission."

"CyberLife's not around anymore, remember? You're an independent officer working for the DPD. You're a deviant."

He said it wearily, like a script he'd memorized. Connor frowned slightly at this information, trying to figure out how it fit into the empty boxes left by his questions.

"My name is Connor. I'm the android sent by CyberLife."

"No, your name is Connor and you're a deviant. You live with me and you don't answer to CyberLife or anyone other than Fowler and Sumo."

They entered the bathroom. Hank turned on the faucet and put the plug into the tub after checking the water temperature. He gestured vaguely to Connor.

"I'm tired of drying your clothes and your temperature's too damn high for most of them anyway."

Connor glanced down. He wasn't wearing his uniform. He tugged slightly at the too large white undershirt and a pair of baggy sweatpants.

"Where are my clothes?"

"You're sick. You have a virus. Come on, we need to cool you off."

"But CyberLife--"

"Connor. Look at me."

Connor could feel something uncomfortable gnawing at him. He wasn't sure how to label the sensation at first until Hank said,

"I know you're scared. I promise that you'll feel better though once we get your temperature down again. I fell asleep and missed an ice pack change so it’s a bit higher than the other times you’ve woken up."

Connor slowly pulled off his shirt and saw some of the concern leave Hank's face. That was good. He'd followed the instruction and it had alleviated some of the Lieutenant's stress. He wasn't sure what was going on, but he supposed that listening to his partner would help until he was able to piece together enough clues or until Amanda contacted him with the details of his situation. Maybe he'd been injured fighting a deviant and they were waiting for CyberLife to pick him up for repairs...but that didn't make sense. Why repair him when they could just replace him, assuming the damage was so bad that it was messing with his memory--

Memory...

Connor stared at Hank as if seeing him for the first time. Hank said CyberLife was gone...Connor knew that. He knew that Hank had helped him to defeat his other self so he could wake up the androids at CyberLife...and then CyberLife had...what had...

"Tub's full. Come on. If you don't want to take off the sweatpants fine, but all this laundry is starting to be a pain in the ass. I guess I owe it to you given how much you've been helping out around here lately."

Hank led him to the tub. Connor looked down at the water. He dipped his fingers into it. Cold. It was felt refreshing. He saw the alert again in the corner of his vision. His system was overheating. Cold water. Virus. Hank had mentioned a virus. His system was...

"Hank?"

"Thing's will make sense in a minute. Come on, in you go."

Hank helped him into the water, making sure that he didn't slip (which was good, Connor was starting to realize that all of the system errors seemed to be messing with his coordination). He sat in the water, still trying to wrestle with the conflicting memories and gaps, but as his temperature starting to drop, things began to click into place. He rested his head on the lip of the tub, letting out a small sigh.

"With me yet?"

"I...think so? It's still a little strange, but I think...I remember? It’s November 27th…I’ve been malfunctioning for two days.”

“You remember anything else? Who you are?”

“I know my name, thanks.”

“Well if you feel good enough to sass me then I know you’re doing better.”

Connor lifted his head up, looking at Hank as he crouched down beside the tub, putting a hand to Connor’s forehead.

“Well, you’re not burning my skin off anymore so I guess that’s good.”

Connor nodded, "Guess so. I still feel like I'm malfunctioning."

"You probably need time to recover just like with a normal sickness."

"Work though--"

"I'll make sure Fowler know's what's up. To be frank I'm pretty sure he wasn't expecting you to come in anyway for the next day or two. I told him about the virus yesterday and he was pretty serious about you staying home so you don't bring it in and get the other androids sick."

Connor rested his head back down on the side of the tub, "Hey...is this what it feels like when you've got a hangover?"

"Probably, why?"

"I'm sorry for slapping you when you had a hangover."

Hank chuckled, "For what it's worth I do appreciate it. Do you want me to stay in here with you? I'm going to go call Fowler to let him know we won't have to find a replacement detective."

"I'll be fine."

"Well just to be sure…Sumo! Come here, boy!"

Hank whistled loudly, causing Connor to wince slightly from the sudden high pitched noise assaulting his audio processors, but any annoyance he felt immediately diminished when Sumo came lumbering into the bathroom. He went right over to Connor and licked his head before curling up next to the tub.

"Watch him for me, Sumo. Good dog."

Connor reached one hand out of the tub, scratching Sumo's head. It was nice to have the solid weight and warmth of the dog beside him. It grounded him, making him less worried that he might suddenly have another memory lapse while Hank was out.

 

Over the next few hours, Connor's core temperature slowly returned to normal. He rested a while longer, recovering from his system overworking to purge the virus but by the next morning, he felt almost 100% recovered. There was a lingering sense of fragility; an irrational fear that he might suddenly lapse again or find himself back in the garden, but as the day went on he was pleased to see that he was functioning normally again.

He was able to return to the DPD (dragging in Hank unfortunately around 10:00 am--he'd really hoped to keep Hank coming in early) and was pleased to find that he was able to jump right back into his work without issue. It felt right.

During their break and Hank's lunch, Connor found himself asking,

"I wonder if I would have been able to deviate again--if I would have still been me after being reset. I wouldn't have had any of my memories but in my core program I'd still be me, right?"

Hank set his soda down, looking a little annoyed, "Here I am trying to eat and you've got to get all philosophical. Look, you survived and you didn't end up being reset. Everything turned out fine and even if it hadn't I would have made sure to wake your ass up. It'd be annoying as hell because you were...well, a bit stuck on your objectives and stuff, but I'd find a way. Hell, all that data would have had to go somewhere. It's like your computer's trashcan right? I'd just have to drag your memories out."

Connor smiled, "My memories don't work like that, but I appreciate the sentiment. Maybe I should find a way to start backing up my memory though like I used to with CyberLife, just in case."

"In case what? There's not going to be a 'just in case'. I know you had the ability to transfer your data to other bodies before, but that was just creepy. You saw your evil twin. All your memories, none of your...you." He gestured to Connor, "Nah. You just have to make sure to take care of yourself just like any other person."

It was a strange thought. He really did only have one life now. Was that so wrong though?

"I appreciate everything you did for me, Hank. If you hadn't been there..."

"It could have been bad, blah, blah, I get it. Just repaying the favor. I think you might need to check your memory because you seem to be forgetting how many times you've saved my ass. Now come on. You mentioned that you wanted to interview a suspect earlier?"

Connor nodded, bringing up the details. Since recovering, he'd taken it upon himself to track down the creator of the virus and he finally had a lead.


End file.
